The Lounge Singer
by C. Nichole
Summary: When a chance at redemption finds Reno working as a covert bodyguard for a beautiful lounge singer, Reno assumes it will be an easy chance to prove that he's ready to get back in the game. But Reno finds that sometimes the lines between work and pleasure blur, and keeping your distance just isn't going to be in the cards.


She was so damn beautiful.

Every night she was there. Illuminated like an angel, or a goddess. It bordered on idolatry, the way he obsessed over her.

If he were more of a man, he'd go up and talk to her. Offer to buy her a drink, maybe take her to dinner, like a gentleman would.

But he was no gentleman and he knew it. He was a killer. A mercenary. Men like him didn't get the girl, maybe rescued the girl—brought her back into the arms of some rich asshole.

Though something about this girl told him she wouldn't be needing rescuing—even if he was being paid to protect her, even if he'd been her paid shadow for weeks.

He shouldn't be in here. Shouldn't be where she could notice him, but he can't bring himself to leave—a not so small part of him _wants _her to notice.

_Maybe then...Maybe she'll...?_

The bartender—_Cid, is that his name?—_interrupts his thoughts.

"She's got a new set tonight; heard her practicin' before the bar opened. Heavy shit, man."

Sleeves rolled up, shirt casually unbuttoned and wrinkled, hardened look about him, confident swagger—Reno knows a Merc when he sees one, even a former Merc like this bartender.

"They employ all ex-Shinra here, or what?"

The bartender laughs, though he doesn't look surprised that Reno was able to peg him.

"Only the really, really good ones," he says with a cocky grin that crinkles his features, much like his disheveled shirt.

"And the singer?"

"Tifa? Fuck, man. You've been coming here for weeks and you _still _don't know her goddamn name?"

Reno raises an eyebrow, but doesn't respond. He knows her name. Knows practically everything about her, but he's been paid to be invisible—so he doesn't let on. Eventually, Cid continues, "She doesn't bite, you know. At least, I don't think so...maybe if you ask _very nicely._"

Reno barely restrains himself from reaching over the bar and making damn sure that this man _never knows, _but he remembers that he'd like to come back tomorrow to hear her again, so he settles for a glare.

Cid returns the glare with a huge grin. "Just fucking with ya, man. Here—next one's on me," he says while sliding a drink towards Reno—scotch, neat.

The houselights dim. It's almost time now.

Reno turns on his seat to watch.

She's breathtaking. Dressed in a shiny, short, black number, but it's not even the first thing he notices about her. Her eyes are set—determined. This woman knows she's meant for bigger and better, one day, she's going to prove it. Her glossy dark hair skims the hem of her dress, shoulders back, chin raised—a warrior. She smiles at the audience.

It's not packed yet, but it will be once the bouncers let everyone in. It's always packed for her.

Reno watches as she waves to some regulars—that he could be the one she waves at. Another lifetime, maybe.

"I have some new songs for you all, tonight. I think it's the right night for it." She looks back at the band and signals, then turns back to the audience with a wink. "Yeah, it's right. Let's do it."

And then she sings.

It's the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing he's ever heard. Reno wasn't much interested in live performances, at least, not anymore. There was a time, a long time ago, when he was a different man, where he loved music. The connection between the singer and her audience—there's nothing like it.

And her, in that bar, the bygone relic of an older, glorious age, he found her.

And he told himself he'd be content to covet her from afar.

Told himself that as long as he had her here, he didn't need anything more.

Lied to himself nightly.

He watches as Tifa closes her eyes, the music evidently moving her in much the same way it moved him—suddenly, her eyes flutter open, their gazes lock. Though the song is sad, the look she gives him is...happy? Glad? He tries to convince himself that he's imagining things, but he knows—she's seen him now.

_Has she seen me before? _he wonders.

But the song is over and the music changes. Up-tempo, really gets the audience interested—and moving. She takes the microphone and weaves in and out of the front tables, dancing with and around her audience. They eat it up.

Reno tries not to seethe with jealousy.

She doesn't walk over to him. Doesn't look at him again for the remainder of his set. Which is to be expected; what could someone like her want with someone like him?

Her performance is over much too quickly for Reno's liking, but that's not a surprise. She could sing for hours and he'd never be sated.

"I'm going to bring her a drink when she comes out for the evening, anyone in particular I should say it's from?" Cid suggests in a familiar sort of way.

"Do we know each other?" Reno asks, really taking a close look at him now.

"Not particularly. But my old partner, Rude. You saved his ass a few times."

"The bouncer?" Reno vaguely remembered being sent out on a few missions together, back when he still worked for the company—pretty routine—he certainly didn't remember saving anyone's ass.

"That's the one. You never wondered why you get to cut the line when everyone else lines up hours in advance for Seventh Heaven?"

He hadn't, actually. Always assumed it was because his fearsome exterior and badass attitude gave him the aura of someone with which one did not fuck; apparently, he'd been mistaken.

"And Tifa?" Why would this man possibly care whether or not he spoke with her.

"Tifa's been hung up on an old love for some time now. Rumor has it he disappeared a few years back without a word. She's been heartbroken ever since."

"And you never thought to fill that void?" Reno challenges.

Cid laughs. "Of fuckin' course I did! I ain't blind. But Tifa and me...Well, let's just say, we're better off as friends. 'Sides, I have my own girl waiting for me; Tifa's my girl, but not in _that _way."

Reno's expression darkens at Cid's admission, but he doesn't press the issue.

Movement from behind the little stage catches his eye—she'll be coming out soon.

Maybe it's the liquor or the weeks of obsessing, but for some reason, he's not going to be content with sitting on the sidelines anymore.

"What does she drink?" Reno asks.

Cid grins. "Shirley Temple."

"Seriously?"

"Not much of a drinker, that one."

Reno nods. He could understand that. Before he could think better of it, he says, "Tell her it's from Reno."

Cid laughs. "I would, Reno... but you're going to have to tell her yourself."

He had no time to prepare himself. No time to put on charming facade. No time to affect a suave persona.

Reno was as real as it could get and he was practically struck dumb by her proximity—her scent, sweet like sugar and cinnamon. Reno wasn't inexperienced with women, not by a long shot, but it had been a long time since one had affected him quite like Tifa.

"Tifa," Cid starts after it's clear Reno is having a hard time talking—for the first time in his mouthy fucking life. "Great set."

She smiles. "You think so? How'd the new set list go over?"

"Really great, I think. Any execs in the crowd tonight?"

Tifa shook her head. "None that I know of."

Watching Reno flounder in silence is apparently too much for Cid as he finally gestures towards him. "Reno here, really loved it. Been coming to see you for weeks, isn't that right?"

Reno barely keeps from blushing. _Fucking asshole, sold me out! _The last thing he wanted to look like was some lovelorn loser—even if he _was _one—or to blow his cover.

"I...er. Yeah, it was great."

Tifa turns towards him and beams. "Thank you so much!" Her hand comes up to rest on his forearm—the skin to skin contact doing ridiculous things to his mind. Taking it places he probably should not be imagining.

"Can I..." Reno forgets himself—her eyes aren't brown, they're black like the night sky and they draw him in.

Reno coughs and he comes back to himself—now he _is _blushing. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Tifa considers for a moment before she nods. "I'd like that. Why don't we move to my private table—Cid, can you bring my usual over?"

"Certainly," Cid says with a wink. "This one's courtesy of Reno here."

Tifa gives a heart stopping smile as Reno tries to remember how feet are supposed to work.

He shouldn't be doing this—_Really, really shouldn't be doing this—_but he just can't stop himself. She leads. He follows—even as his mind remembers what he's here for.

_ "She doesn't know what he went and got himself into—who'd kill her just to get revenge on __**him**__. I need someone I can trust—someone professional. I've worked with you before, Reno. I think you're that man. Keep her safe. I'd rather this not interrupt her life if we can manage it."_

_ "What should I tell her, if she notices me?"_

_ "That you're her biggest fan? It's not such a stretch, my step-sister is rather talented. You like lounge singers?"_

_ "Some."_

_ "You've never heard anyone like her before, I guarantee it."_

Reeve had been right. He'd been dogging her for weeks and she'd practically knocked him off his feet with her talent and passion for life.

Tifa was nothing like what he'd been expecting.

Reno'd kill to have a girl like Tifa. Kill to keep a girl like Tifa safe.

Tifa led him into a secluded booth in the corner. The lounge wasn't particularly loud, but the music from the live band made it necessary to sit close together—which Reno was particularly torn about.

_Seriously. Get your shit together. You're not a teenager anymore._

Reno had once prided himself on being a ladies' man. Once, long ago, when he'd chased skirts instead of fulfilling contracts.

So it made no sense that Tifa made him so nervous, but she took him back—with her music and her soulful expressions—back to a place where he wasn't quite so jaded, before he'd watched as his friends had died, as people he'd been paid to protect were wiped out in front of his eyes.

Tifa was more than a job. She was his redemption. A chance to vindicate himself. More than that—a chance to prove that he still had something to give in this world.

He wasn't a white knight, never had been. But with her, he felt he could be something _more._

"Tell me about yourself, Reno."

"Not much to say. Why don't you tell me about what you do here?"

She scrunches her face a little, as if she's disappointed that he doesn't want to talk about himself. "I sing, Reno. It's been my life for as long as I can remember."

"Any record deal aspirations?"

"Was hoping for some musical theatre, maybe Loveless."

"You auditioned?"

"Open tryouts next week," she says with a wink.

Reno watches as she finishes off her drink. Some lingering fans shyly make their way over and ask for autographs on napkins.

"Don't have the money for the glossies—yet," she tells Reno with a small smile. For a moment, the brightness of her eyes dulls with the acknowledgement of the reality that exists all around her.

Reno sense her mood and, in an attempt to make her feel better, he offers, "Maybe after the audition..."

She seizes on it, brightly answering, "Yeah, definitely. After the auditions."

Tifa sits there for a few moments more, making small talk. Mostly about the weather, and how he thought her set went.

Reno nods and hums and answers when appropriate, at least, he thinks he does. If he didn't know better, he'd swear he was starstruck.

Or in love.

But either option was hopeless for a man like Reno.

She starts to shift in her seat. "I'm off for the evening. Time for the long walk home." She sighs and straightens her spine a little. Reno knows the long walk is anything but easy, especially in this neighborhood.

"You walk alone?" he asks, sounding like a worried old hen even to his own ears

"Oh, yeah. It's not such a big deal. If there's any issues, it's usually outside of the club." Reno watches as her eyes slide towards the entrance. Reeve had told him about how some guys would hang around the club, trying to get their own little piece of her.

Reno found he'd like to get his own little piece—_of them. _

_ If I ever meet that fucker who put her in this situation..._

Now was his chance. "How's about I walk you home tonight?"

She cocks her head at him. Long hair flowing over to one side, almost close enough for him to reach, almost close enough for him to run his fingers through—he resists, just barely.

"I'd like that," she grins. "Just a walk, though."

As if he'd suggest more. Not with _this _kind of girl, even if he had wondered.

Tifa stands and makes her way behind the stage. Reno steps in behind, trying to both watch her and not seem like he was hovering. Reeve had wanted him to be subtle. _Tifa has had enough to worry about. Just keep an eye on her—we don't know how much of a threat they stand to be, but I would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to her._

_ "Why don't you just tell her you're hiring her a bodyguard?" Reno had wondered._

_ Reeve had laughed a little. "Tifa has more than just a little fight in her. She'd never allow it, if she knew."_

Reno had been impressed when he'd looked over the dossier Reeve had supplied. Midgar was a tough city, tougher than most. There weren't many people who could hold their own here. An accomplished martial artist, Tifa had insisted on being able to take care of herself, while her family had insisted on more "ladylike" hobbies. In the end, Tifa had compromised—musical studies as long as she was allowed to take karate lessons.

She'd excelled in both.

Reading through the personal files, Reno had noted that, on more than a few occasions, she'd needed her physical skills to get herself out of a tough situation.

Lost in a daydream about a young singer with the voice of an angel and the ferocity of a warrior, Reeve barely notices when Tifa gently jostles his.

"Aren't you going to offer me your arm?" she asks with a smirk.

Reno stares stupidly for a moment before his brain connects with his arm. He holds his elbow out for her. "I...of course, skirt."

She laughs—a lovely, and rich sound—he'd gladly play the fool to hear that sweet sound again.

"Skirt? Where'd that come from?" she asks as she entwines her arm with his as they make their way out of the lounge.

_Because if I told you what I was really thinking about, I don't know I'd have made it out of here without kissing you._

"I don't know. Seems fitting."

"I'm more than just a short skirt, Reno."

_ Don't I know it. More than you'll ever know._

"Does it bother you?"

"It does if it's the only reason you're walking me home right now."

Reno laughs. "Not by a long shot."

"My friends call me Teef; you could always call me that."

Reno tries it out, "Teef..."

"Hmm. Yes, I like it when you call me that," she says with a smile.

And they walk together, arm in arm.

For that moment, the darkness didn't seem so oppressive, the job ahead of Reno, not quite so daunting. For the first time in a long time, Reno felt hopeful.

_She's going to change everything, _a small but forceful voice warned him.

But even as he'd left her at the door to her apartment and rounded the corner to make his way back to the club, back to where his bike was parked, the smile didn't leave his face.

* * *

><p>an~Hallo! Been a while since I've posted something new. This one popped into my head and would NOT let go until I wrote it all out, so I thought I'd share. Originally started out a VinTi (because what else do I ship, seriously?) but Reno was all: I'm pretty sure this one's about me, Red. And I'm all: But I don't really write for the Reno Tifa pairing. And he's all: You do now! Hope you enjoyed and I'd sure enjoy it if you left a review :) This is kind of a oneshot for now, but if inspiration strikes, you never know where this will go.

Thanks for all the follows/favs. I see and am grateful for each and every one. Any mistakes are my own, but I did try to catch them all.

Still working on OBA and LotM...I promise! 3


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